


Lightness

by somekindofseizure



Category: The X-Files, The X-Files: I Want To Believe (2008)
Genre: F/M, Ficlet, IWTB, MSR, blonde scully, prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 09:39:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6369766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somekindofseizure/pseuds/somekindofseizure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place after "I Want to Believe."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lightness

Sweat began to collect on her chest as she blow-dried her hair, and she had to spread her feet wider to keep her thighs from sticking together. Normally, she would do this with the door open to let some cool air in, but she didn’t want him to come creeping in too soon, drawn by the scent of florally fragranced bleach the promise of her nakedness. She held the ends out between her fingers as she applied heat, wishing she’d packed her good round brush. She reminded herself she was on vacation, it was okay if it was a little frizzy.

She tilted her head and watched the hot wind tangle her hair, eyeing the mirror suspiciously, as if expecting to see someone else. They had promised to get as far away from the darkness as they could. Well, she was doing her part. She had washed the dark red pigment down the drain with her sadness, and all that was left around her face was light. 

The box had called it “Ashy Honey” or something, and it made her skin look lighter and her eyes darker. The overall difference was greater than she’d expected, and while she thought she liked it, she was glad she waited to be in the middle of the Caribbean Ocean to try it.

He looked up from his book when she stepped out of the bathroom. It gave her a warm, safe feeling to see him sitting there reading something that had nothing to do with work, or paranoia, or aliens. Just a regular book. But he said nothing, made no facial expression. It was almost as if she had made herself invisible instead of making herself blonde.

She dropped her towel to help things along and he smiled at the sight of her, but did not acknowledge the change, apparently so appalled by it that he couldn’t think of anything to say that was both honest and kind. When he got up, she thought he was coming to embrace her, but he reached for his jeans.

“Get dressed, Scully,” he said with his back to her. “We’re going out tonight.” 

“We already ate.”

“I know. But it’s getting a little stir crazy in here, don’t you think?”

She wanted to yell at him but she knew it wasn’t fair. She hadn’t prepared him at all. It suddenly occurred to her that she didn’t even know if he liked blondes. She couldn’t think of any that he’d dated. She had simply asked him to take her to town, stepped out of the car and come out of the quaint little drugstore with a new version of herself in a brown paper bag.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and went to the closet, haphazardly tossing on one of the floor length dresses she’d brought. It was cotton, covered in flowers, tied at the neck with a string. She knew it screamed tourist, but she didn’t care. It had been so long since she’d been somewhere beautiful that she was okay with screaming about it.

He stood beside her silently in the mirror and rubbed something through his hair. It was long enough now for him to need product. _It’s long enough for him to have hair empathy_ , she thought bitterly. She reached into her makeup bag wondering how long before this was just the color her hair was, before it was not a topic. She could dye it back of course, but she had too much dignity to run out and do it tomorrow. 

“Where are we going?” she asked without really caring. As far as she knew, there was nowhere really to go on this island.

“I got a recommendation from the housekeeper,” he said.

*

The bartender was overwhelmed, although Mulder got the impression he was always overwhelmed here. He leaned against the rough wood of the bar and studied the place as best he could in the feeble underground lighting. The thick, hot air dripped with cigarette smoke, body odor and the beachy smell of coconut. The walls throbbed with heavy live percussion.

He looked toward the dance floor, where he’d left Scully dancing with a friendly local guy who was teaching her to samba. Or salsa. He didn’t know the difference. His view was blocked by undulating bodies, some of them twirling hand in hand, the others hooked at the hips, swaying as if the music could be any music anywhere in the world. It should be easy enough to spot her. She’d been shrouded in SPF 70 and big hats since they arrived and she was the only pale thing in the room. He peered through the crowd and waited for windows to form.

There, her shoulder – there, her back – there, her elbow in the air.

Finally he saw her face as she smiled – really smiled – back at her dance partner. They both laughed as she made some mistake and glanced down at her feet to shuffle them into place. Her hair had curled in the humidity, and it hung wildly down her bare back, single strands sticking to her skin as it tossed.

She looked like a different person. No more or less beautiful, no more or less radiant, but lighter, brighter. He couldn’t imagine red-haired Scully in a place like this, careless and dancing sweatily with a stranger. Then again, it could be his lack of imagination.

He was glad she didn’t ask him first, he would have begged her not to. But from the moment she stepped out of the bathroom, he’d wanted to run his fingers through it, study it up close, see if it smelled any different. The idea to surprise her had come to him immediately, and he had to act quickly before he caught the sight of her wounded and gave in.

The stranger pulled her tighter as the music slowed a bit, and he began to teach her different moves. The flush in her cheeks dissipated as she caught her breath and struggled to hear him explain the footing. She looked ready.   The bartender was finally looking at Mulder, but he shook his head no and dodged his way through the crowd to her.

She was startled, maybe even annoyed, as he patted the stranger on the shoulder and took her hand, dragging her toward the back door. He couldn’t hear her until they were in the stairwell, a narrow, dark passage where their voices sounded strange to ringing ears.

“Mulder, what are you doing?”

“Just a little air.”

“I was having fun,” she said as he pulled her through the door and into a back alleyway. Directly behind the building there was a single lightbulb, but immediately to the side of the building was an alley way so dark he could barely see her even this close.

“I was having fun, Mulder,” she said, this time definitely annoyed. 

He pushed her against the stucco wall and leaned his elbow next to her face. The music reverberated up through the bones of the building into theirs. 

“How much fun?” he asked, hushing his voice, her lips just a tiny tip of the tongue away from his face.

“I don’t know, fun,” she said with syrupy rum breath, studying his eyes to try to get ahead of him.

“ _More_ fun?” he asked. He felt her grin as he kissed her and hiked her dress up in his hand. She was getting it.

“Yes, but I would have to go dancing on a tropical island as a redhead to compare,” she said gamely as he placed his hand on her thigh. “You never even told me if you liked it.” 

He tongue-kissed her for only a few moments before she opened her legs to make room for his fingers. She gasped quietly and tightened her grip on his shoulders as he slid his longest finger inside her, letting the dress drape softly over his wrist. His whisper fell into the buttery strands near her ear.

“I’m telling you now.”

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
